Chapter 4- Meeting the Fam

After our dizzyingly wonderful first kiss, Isaac and I talked for hours: about us, about our pasts, about the future.  From the beginning, we made it a point to practice full disclosure. It was painful and spectacular-- painful because we all come with a past, often one which we wish we could change. Spectacular because the honesty we showed each other was so freeing. Isaac didn't play with my mind; he never made me guess where I stood with him. "Games", which are just a pathetic, insecure grasp for relationship power, were something we didn't have time for because we were busy enjoying falling in love and searching out whether or  not we were meant to keep moving forward in our relationship. I've wondered if that was the first time he knew he loved me. It definitely was NOT when I discovered that I loved him. That came much later. But I'm getting ahead of myself...

"So, I went to visit my folks this weekend, and I told them all about this new girl I'm seeing."

"Oh, really? I bet she's pretty awesome in every way." Wow, Christina, good one! You are so confident!

"Yeah, they are really excited and want to meet you. In fact, they are coming into town this afternoon."

"Oh, really?" Oh, dear God. What if they hate me? Quick, buy them presents and Google "how to be charming"! "Wow. That's soo-- I mean, great!"

"Yeah, they're making a trip to Academy, so I thought you could come and then we could all go out to eat."

"That sounds great. I love Academy. See you later... I'm hanging up now... Yaaay..."


I lied. I do NOT love Academy. Contrary to what the name would have you believe, this store sells nothing related to school, a subject I actually know about. In fact, they sell pretty much everything I know nothing about. "Sports and Outdoors"? My mind quickly reels through the experiences I have in these two areas.

Sports: I ran cross country in high school. That counts, right? I mean, I think the coach allowed me to run out of pity or some masochistic need for a career challenge, but... Oh, and there was that one time I got a cramp after a race so bad I laid down at the finish line (after finishing next-to-last out of 60) and my coach asked me if I was getting enough potassium. Apparently the reply, "Well I had a banana last week, but I think it's wearing off," was not adequate.

Ok, just stay away from the sports section of the store. How about "outdoors"?

Outdoors: There are bugs out there. Ewww.

I'm in trouble.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the spirit of full disclosure, Isaac told me from the very beginning that his family's opinion was very important to him when it comes to choosing a spouse. "They love God. They love me. I trust their opinions because they have God's will and my best interest at heart." No pressure, right?

I have successfully knocked on Isaac's door without shaking or throwing up. So far, so good. As I walk into his and his brother's living room, I am greeted by a host of friendly faces. A HOST. My shyness begins to rear it's red-cheeked head at the most inopportune of times.

"I'd like you to meet everyone. This is my mom, dad, my sister, her husband, her two children, and my dad's coworker."

I'm sure there were name inserted into this introduction, but I've gone ahead and omitted them seeing as it's pretty hopeless that I'll ever remember them all.

"Come on in, have a seat!"

All eyes are on me, so I have no option to turn and run away at this point.

"Here honey, you sit in the recliner." His father chivalrously says as he moves seats.

The recliner? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! "Oh, no thanks, I'll just sit over here."

"No, no, it's ok. Here you go."

Ah, recliners. A short person's nightmare. It's my own fault for dating a giant. He's bought oversized furniture, and climbing onto it, especially the recliner, requires either a daredevil hop backwards and up or climbing in a knees-up-butt-awkwardly-out sort of way. Either way, my semblance of poise is surely about to be compromised. This whole family is tall. They just won't understand.

I choose the backwards hop. Now that I'm in, I remember the other major problem we short people endure with recliners: Tiny Person= Big Chair Syndrome.

The struggle is real.

Yes, they notice. They think it's cute and funny, but I'm pretty sure it's just mortifying. After some pleasantries and small talk, we make our way to Academy. Once there, they decide to split up, men looking at the outdoorsy items, women looking at athletic shoes. Oh, I so don't want to leave Isaac's side, but I go with the girls and kiddos. His sister is a delight. We talk and laugh, and I instantly bond with the kiddos, too! 

His mom is a different story. She is beautiful, classy, polite, kind, and quiet. Very quiet. Now, I'm a shy person in some situations, but for the most part, I'm fairly extroverted. This means that it doesn't take me long to want to laugh with, hug, and share my life story with, well, pretty much anyone I meet, almost immediately. It also means that when people don't share my same disdain for personal boundaries, discretion, or propriety, I get nervous. REALLY nervous.  

Is this person mad? Is he or she sad? Should I hug him/her? Should I tell a really vulnerable story about myself and cry so that she will know she can be real with me?

I feel a little sorry for all of the introverted students I've taught in years past. I probably called on them more because I felt like they resented their genius going unnoticed for so long, so I gave them the chance to shine by answering in front of the class! 

I want to win his mother's approval. Mostly, I want to KNOW I've won her approval. But, I know I must be patient. I keep reminding myself that for some people silence doesn't mean "I hate you", "I'm sad", or "Please draw attention to me". I'm new, I'm with her baby, and she's looking out for him.

My my anxiety-filled thoughts are broken by Grace, Isaac's adorable little six-year-old niece. "Are you going to Arkansas with us for family vacation? We're going in two weeks."

"Oh, no. I'm just here to help you shop for your trip," I reply with a stutter and a smile.

"Awwwww. I want you to come with us!"

Now, I know I'm a little awkward anyway, but what do you say in this situation? Really? 

"Well, maybe next time, if your Uncle and I are still together"? "Oh, it does sound fun, can I go with you, new family? Can I?" "Vacation? Yeah, right. We're still trying to figure out if this 'relationship' is even serious!" 

I just laugh and stare intently at a shoe I know nothing about. I've known this guy for a little over a month. Vacation? No way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At dinner, I get to hear all kinds of great, blackmail-worthy stories about this amazing man I'm dating. Mrs. Broadway and I get the chance to laugh and joke together. Mr. Broadway treats me with such fatherly care and attentiveness that it's like we've always known each other. I sit in the car on the way home and contemplate this sweet family-- this family of people that worship God, that love each other fiercely, that doesn't take themselves too seriously, that welcomes outsiders like me because they are that overflowing with love. My heart swells with happiness and thanksgiving as I remember all of the years I've spent praying for the chance to be a part of a family just like this. At this point, I'm not sure what the future holds for Isaac and me, but I am grateful to have gotten the chance to know and learn from this wonderful group of people.  

Little do I know, in just two weeks, I will be experiencing some of the most unfortunate and embarrassing moments of my life right in front of all of them.

Coming Soon: Chapter 5- Family Vacation

Thank you for reading! As usual, if you've made it this far, I have left you an entertainment treat:

30 Awkward Moments Every Short Girl Understands

Chapter 3- The Spark

May 30th, 2012

The smell of my exquisite culinary masterpiece fills my car as I pull up to his house.

Ok, so it's just homemade Mexican food, but still, it smells pretty dang good! 

It's been a while since I've seen Isaac. We've both been tying up loose ends at work, so free time is a hot commodity. Luckily, school is finally out for me! Isaac's been preparing for his end of year pop show with his choir students, and even though he doesn't let on, I can tell he's feeling a little stressed. Despite his workload, he invited me over to watch some scary movie tonight. So, here I am, standing at his door holding a pink file crate full of hot food that I've made just for him.

After our last date, I knew that I was beginning to develop feelings for the straight-shooting 6'4" choir director/hunter/fisherman/chef/opera-singer/who-knows-what-else guy. He is more than just a man of many hats; he was a man who clearly loves God and His people.

And still, I can't help but ask myself, what about the butterflies? You know, that wonderful, bubbly feeling you get in the pit of your stomach every time HE comes around. That spark of attraction that stirs your heart so deeply it causes a physical reaction, where is that? Am I being unrealistic? The Lord has convicted me in the past of being too reliant on and/or driven by emotions, and maybe those things are just "teenager stuff" anyway. Regardless of this (perhaps trivial) inner-struggle, there is something in me that believes I am meant to continue dating Isaac and see where God leads us.

Sharing a meal together is pleasant, as always. We chat about our day, discuss his upcoming show, flirt, laugh, and play. We've only known each other for a short time, but being with him is so comfortable.

As we move over to the couch, I whimsically ponder to myself if he'll try to hold my hand or kiss me for the first time.  I mean, he DID invite me to a scary movie; that's guy code for "I want a chance to put my arm around you", right? And saying "yes" to this invitation was my girl code for "no matter how much this movie stinks, I'll at least pretend to be scared so you can 'protect' me"... right? I quickly snap myself back to reality, feeling slightly embarrassed to be a 24-year-old entertaining such immature musings.

He sits at the end of the couch and I sit in the middle, right next to him. He pushes play, and The Devil Inside begins playing.

A real winner!

Not.

 About a half hour into the movie, I feel him reach to put his arm around me. I turn slightly, resting my back against his torso and putting my bare feet up on the other end of the couch. Somehow, I seem to fit perfectly in this Christina-shaped cutout created by his arm and body. That feeling of comfort mixed with happiness washes over me again.

And then, it happens.

*Now, just a disclaimer, I feel completely ridiculous writing about this part, because I KNOW how foolish and lame it sounds. Nevertheless, with Isaac's permission, I have resolved to tell our story, and this was a major part of it, for me, at least.*

After sinking in to the comfort of Isaac's embrace, I reach my hand over and put it on his knee. We continue watching the (horrible and creepy) movie for a while when he reaches over and grabs my hand. He holds it tightly for a while and then begins to gently trace circles on the inside of my wrist with the tips of his fingers. I don't know why, but this simple act causes me to melt into a puddle! My stomach fills with butterflies and it feels as though bolts of electricity are running through my entire body. It is nothing short of fantastic.

Meanwhile, back at my pituitary gland:

-"General, we have hand-to-hand contact."

-"Thanks, Lieutenant. ALRIGHT PEOPLE, we have hand-to-hand contact! This is not a drill! Cue the palm sweat! Sergeant, get me the adrenal glands on the phone, we need a racing heartbeat!"

-"Pardon me, sir, but don't you think this is a bit much? I mean, he's just--"

-"That's enough out of you, soldier. WHERE IS THE AWKWARD SHAKING? Somebody is falling down on the job!"

I feel my legs and arms completely stiffen. My toes begin to hug each other. It feels like every muscle I have is inching its way towards my wrist, so that they can be the lucky ones feeling this exciting touch. If Isaac knew the effect this was having on me, he would probably realize what a weirdo I am and run in the other direction. Thankfully, I think I'm doing a pretty good job at playing it cool.

"Are you ok?"

Issac's voice interrupts my concerted efforts to act natural.

"Um...ya... I mean, why? I mean, I'm good. You? Is there water here?"

Smooth.

I take a deep breath and turn to look at him. It only makes things worse; I mean, better; I mean, AAAHHH!!! He looks down into my eyes and smiles sweetly at me, completely oblivious to my internal absurdity. He leans in and kisses me gently. For a moment, I become, if it's even possible, even more stiffened, and then, I feel all of the tension in my muscles completely fall away as I blissfully sink in to our first kiss.

The only way I can think to describe it is that his face was like a pillow. Now, I know how that sounds, but it wasn't a pillow in the sense that it was all fluffy and squishy. No, it was... Well, you know that feeling at the end of the day when you get home from work or school and you're just EXHAUSTED? All you want to do is go to sleep, so you climb in bed and rest your head on your pillow and it's just the most amazing feeling you've had in what feels like forever? It feels like this, laying here on your pillow, was what you were made to be doing, and you wish you never had anything else to do but this, forever. AND, what makes it even better is that it's YOUR pillow. Other people's pillows are just not the same. Yours is the best; it's comfortable and wonderful. If you've ever felt that, you can understand what I mean when I say his face was like my pillow.

"You're kind of good at that." I say stupidly.

"You too." he replies, chuckling.

"I guess the past week or so, I have been doubting myself and where I stand with you, Isaac. I'm pretty good at reading people, but sometimes you're a question mark to me."

"What? Why?"

"Well, you don't text me very often." I immediately realize how thin the basis of my concerns has been. "I guess I just thought if you were interested, you'd text me more."

And this is the moment when the Isaac-ness that I like so much comes out again: the part where he never leaves me guessing or wondering because real men don't need to play games like that to keep a woman interested. "I guess I'm not much of a texter, but rest assured, I am extremely interested in you. I will not waste your time by asking you out if I'm not interested. I want to be in a relationship with you." (For the record, he's texted me everyday since this exchange).

It was a sweet night. We ended up hanging out and talking for several more hours after this amazing moment. Although we had technically only been seeing each other, we officially declared ourselves "exclusive," which in the online dating world means we deleted our profiles. haha. We talked about past loves and mistakes, our beliefs about dating and romantic relationships, and boundaries that we felt were biblical and appropriate for our relationship. What a wonderful night!

~Chapter 4 Coming Soon~

Once again, if you've made it this far, I've left you a few little treats.

Video filled with awkward pics explaining the pituitary gland

Boy and girl humor

Written 8-30-2012

Chapter 2- Creepy Fish Tanks

I can’t believe I’m doing this. I can’t believe I’m doing this. This is so not me!

All I can do is scold myself as I pull into the driveway of a man I’ve met face to face only once. My mother would kill me if she knew. I text my best friend Jenn and give her Isaac’s name and address in case he turns out to be a murderer. I tell her what time and pulling up and promise to text her the second I leave.

Is this one of the most reckless things I’ve ever done?

Yes.

The location of my and Isaac’s second date wasn’t my first choice. I was actually led to this driveway by a series of my own flakey tendencies. Since our first date a week ago, I had agreed to see Isaac twice and backed out because of scheduling mistakes and school obligations. (Oh, so THIS is why people use  calendars!) In my defense, it is the end of the school year, my most hectic time. Either way, he has been intentional about expressing his interest in me as well as a desire to go out again. I like that he doesn’t keep me guessing. It seems mature and ultra-manly, if that doesn’t sound silly. Isaac knows what he wants and goes after it, not in a desperate way, but rather, with resolve. (Trust me, if you have any experience with online dating, you KNOW the difference.)  And now,  I’m starting to worry that my natural “Christina-ness”, what with all of the committing and backing out, won’t last much longer before he shakes the dust from his feet and walks the other way. He’s leaving to be in a friend’s wedding tomorrow, which means he has to stay home and wash clothes tonight, but with my schedule as crazy as it is, I won’t be free for another week.

So here I am. I walk up to his front door nervously. Very little light is coming through the windows, but I can hear the TV booming. We planned to watch Thor, so maybe he has already started it. As I wait for him to answer the door, something catches my eye through the glazing.

What is that? A huge fish tank? Why is it brown? Oh, God, he’s going to chop me up and put me in his fish tank. I knew this was a bad idea. I KNEW this was a bad idea...

My internal struggle, “to run or not to run,” is interrupted when Isaac answers the door.

Well hello, handsome fish tank killer.

Oh, uh, I mean, “Hi.”

I reluctantly enter his house. He lives with his brother, who, at the moment, is conveniently away at work for the night. Entering the living room, I notice he has MULTIPLE fish tanks. Four, to be exact. Thankfully, the others’ water is clear, convincing me that no unsuspecting victims now reside in them. We sit down and start chatting. We discuss our days and the many grievances we have towards the public education system. I muster up the courage to ask about the brown fish tank. At this, he laughs and explains that he has recently added real driftwood to the tank's setup. Whew. The conversation shifts to our personal lives. He tells me of his many adventures traveling to sing. He shows me souvenirs from all over the world. As we talk he tells me some of the most interesting stories about people he has known, things he has done, and finally, one beautiful tale of a close friend he lost to cancer. The emotion on his face when talking about Maura tells me that Isaac is a person who loves his friends and family passionately and would do anything for them. My heart hurts and smiles for this truly unique man sitting in front of me.

After four hours, we realize that watching Thor is no longer an option, and I decide to go home and get some sleep. Isaac, respectful but sweet, gives me a long hug at the door of my car. On the way home, I text Jenn and tell her that I’ve not only made it out alive, but that tonight was absolutely fantastic. As I’m telling her all about the night, I feel the faintest hint of a spark run through my body. I think I might like this guy.

~Chapter 3 Coming Soon!~

If you've made it this far, your reward is this link to a how-to dance video my friend Cassi and I made in college and thus an explanation as to why I remained single until age 24.

How to shake your salt

Written 8-28-2012

Chapter 1- First Date

May 9th, 2012-

I pull into the restaurant parking lot more excited about the amazing sushi this place serves than about my impending date. It's nothing against the guy. Isaac, was it? Yeah, Isaac. He seems nice. At least, I think he seems nice. How much can you really tell after only having talked online? 

Yes. Online.

Don't worry, I cringe too. Statistically, 20% of all relationships start online nowadays, but there is still some weird, self- and societal-inflicted twinge of shame that rises to my cheeks every time I think about or tell someone that I have succumbed to the online dating trend. Dating online is comparable to liking McDonald's. Tons of people do it, but NO ONE wants to admit to it. Oh, well. I guess the secret is out now. 

So, I pull into the restaurant anticipating yet another boring first date. 

"Where are you from?"

"Oh, I'm from blah blah blah. What do you like to do in your spare time?"

"I like to duh duh duh. You?"

"Oh, you like to duh, duh, duh? Fascinating. I've always wanted to know more about duh, duh duh!" (Not).

And so on and so forth.

At this point, my outlook is nothing short of despondent. I have only been on this site a month, though, so maybe I'm giving up too quickly. Besides, I've only been on three other dates. (My pessimistic demeanor on date four should be indicative of how much I enjoyed dates 1-3.) Ok, so the other dates weren't that bad; they were pleasant, even. That's the great thing about online dating: you can weed out most of the crazies before ever going out with them. It's nice to talk to people first-- it eliminates that horribly awkward moment on a terrible date where you excuse yourself from the table only to sneak into the stall of a restaurant bathroom and text your bff with pleas that she call in 10 minutes with some fake emergency that will give you a good reason to end this misery early.

I mean… wait… what… I've never done that… ummm….

Moving on.

As I arrive at the restaurant, I look around for him. He offered to pick me up, but we did meet online (safety, safety!) and I was coming straight from school. Ah, the work of a teacher is never done. 

I look like a mess. 

I smell like tenth graders. 

In case you're wondering, that's NOT a good thing. 

Suddenly, just before I reach the door to the restaurant, I spot him walking from his car. He is a giant! I had seen pictures, but apparently none in which he was standing next to a normal-sized human. 

Ok, I'm exaggerating, of course. 

But seriously, six feet, four inches tall! He approaches with a smile that is completely charming.  I saunter all five feet, two inches of myself towards him and introduce myself to his bellybutton. If this is the man God has for me, I think to myself, I'm going to either need taller shoes or a good neck doctor.

He is a perfect gentleman: He opens the door, waits for me to be seated, and speaks to me with an indescribable sense of gentle honesty. 

He compliments me. Genuinely. 

We sit down at our table and begin the normal first date chit-chat. I've never been that into redheads, but he is very handsome. His warm smile makes the mood of the night casual and easy. He looks strong but safe. Apparently, he's a choir director and sings opera, but he's also this outdoorsman/Mr. Fix-It type. Oh, and he used to be a sous-chef. He is kind, but I can see that he could hold his ground if push came to shove. He's wonderfully multifaceted and perplexing. 

"Sometimes women don't like it when a man opens the door for them. Sometimes they won't let me pay for dinner. In fact, sometimes they even get mad if I try." He says matter-of-factly.

"I know. We had an issue like that when I was in college. Several girls on campus made a fuss about the corps men standing up so that the ladies could have a seat on the buses. Sometimes I wonder if chivalry is dying or if we, as women, are slowly killing it." I reply, trying to be understanding.

"Well, I won't let anyone kill it in me. I like opening doors. I like paying for dinner. It's my way of respecting women. In fact, I'll be paying for dinner tonight and opening the door for you when we walk out. I hope this is ok with you because that's just the way I am."

I can't help but smile. His resolve is cute, and I know he isn't kidding.

Something about this exchange stands out to me. He knows who he is, and strives to be a man that respects women. After further discussion, it is obvious that he knows the Bible and understands what kind of man he is called to be. I can somehow tell that he has a past-- something about the eyes. He is far from perfect and knows it, but I can also see that he has no idea what a rare and truly admirable man he really is. 

I watch him treat our waiter with the utmost respect, an action that greatly impresses me. I shamelessly sneak a peek at the tip he leaves; he's generous. I think only people who have worked in food service can fully appreciate this trait.

After about two hours, we decide to call it a night. We both have work in the morning. He keeps his promise and opens the door for me on the way out. He walks me to my car, tells me "goodnight," and leans in for a brief hug. 

On the way home, I process the events of the night. 

I like him, but I don't know if there is any real spark.

Am I too old for butterflies?

Is wanting them an unrealistic expectation? 

Maybe things like that were just high school stuff.

He definitely checks out on paper: good, Christian man; has a steady job; treats me with respect; doesn't leave me guessing; believes in living out biblical manhood; is handsome; etc.

Why, on paper, he's just about perfect!

Definitely worth a second date… if he even calls… he seemed like he had fun… 

Still, what about the spark? 

Pastor Greg Matte once told me and a bunch of other college-students-turned-summer-interns, "The only thing you have to decide on a first date is if there will be a second date. For some reason, young Christian daters put more pressure on themselves than that. Don't."

I spend the rest of the way home praying that if there was meant to be a second date, Isaac would call. 

-Chapter two coming soon-

If you made it this far, here are some fun links as a reward:

Isaac's Opera Skills:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h64Z_hAzpsI&feature=relmfu

Jim Gaffigan's take on "McDonald's shame":

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6YDTfEhChgw

Our Love Story- The Prelude

Hello all!

I’ve decided to allow myself to take a bit of a “blogging detour” for the next several posts. As you may or may not know, I AM ENGAGED! I am so excited and thankful that the Lord has brought me to this sweet chapter in my life. My loving God has already begun teaching me so many valuable lessons, drawing me closer to Him, and raining beautiful blessings over my future husband and I. 

After growing up in what one would nicely call "a broken home," seeing and experiencing things that can only be described as traumatizing and horrific, and making plenty of mistakes of my own along the way, I truly thought this day would never come. Even though Jesus Christ has rescued me from my sins and called me His own, even though He has given me joy unimaginable, I am ashamed to say I have caught myself believing these joy-sucking lies at one time or another:

"The odds have been against me from the start. I don't know what love in marriage or love between parents and children is even supposed to look like." 

"I have messed up too many times. I have made too many bad choices. I deserve nothing, and that's probably exactly what I'm going to get." 

"I am irreparably damaged."

What I was forgetting was that God is bigger than all of that. He has already healed me of my past. He has already forgiven me of my sins, and to say that I am damaged goods is not only untrue, but a slap in the face of my Savior. Ephesians says I am His workmanship. Psalms says He knit me together in my mother's womb. Who am I to say that I am powerful enough to mess all of that up? God is good and loving. 

Looking back on the events that brought me to this wonderful place, I am reminded of a story in which God did something similar, but on a MUCH larger scale: 

In the book of Joshua, chapters 3 and 4, God leads His people across the Jordan River, a task that had at first seemed completely impossible. Crossing the Jordan was the final obstacle in an almost half-century-long endeavor by the Israelites to reach the glorious Promised Land. Of course, life was not always rainbows and butterflies once the Israelites reached the Promised Land; in fact, these people faced some of their toughest challenges after said arrival. Nonetheless, the Promised Land was good; it was what they had been waiting for; it was overwhelmingly… right. 

Anyway, back to the Jordan River. When God revealed to the Israelites that they had FINALLY arrived, that they were at long last in the beautiful land they had been searching and hoping for, do you know what He told them to do first?

“Go, enjoy the land! Have fun and be back for dinner! Oh, wait, there’s food here, so I won’t have to do that ‘raining bread from the sky’ thing anymore…”

“Divvy up the land, making sure everyone gets and equal piece! Be nice and share, guys. Don't make me send you to your desert! LOLZ.”

 “Take a naaaap. You people have been working hard. You had a long trip. You’re probably exhausted.”

No. The first thing God commanded of His people was that they build something to help them remember. He didn’t ask for anything fancy. He didn’t ask for anything unreasonable. In fact, all He really requested was for one of each member of the twelve tribes to pick up a big heavy river stone and put it in a giant pile. Why? So that they would remember what God had done to get them to that wonderful place AND so that their kids and grandkids would walk by the river someday and ask, “Hey pops, why is there a big ole stack of unusually well-placed rocks in this random spot by the river?” and they could remember again... and again... for generations.

All of this to say, I’m taking a blogging detour. I want to stop and create something to help me to remember what God has brought me through to get to this place. I want to testify to what God has done. Most of all, I want to thank Him for writing Isaac and me such a beautiful love story, bringing me such an amazing man, and putting people in my life that can train me and support me as I grow and strive to be the woman of God he deserves. 

This is my random rock pile. 

-Chapter one coming soon-

Written 7-18-2012